Lighthouse at the End of the World
by LastBishop
Summary: Alternate Universe/  Post apocalyptic America is a barren wasteland with an overabundance of murderous cannibalistic men and menacing strangers.  One man and his mentally handicapped friend must trek across this valley of death in hopes of reaching the
1. Chapter 1

**Title: "The Lighthouse at the End of the World"**

**Author: LastBishop**

**Rated T**

**Summary: Alternate Universe/ Post apocalyptic America is a barren wasteland with an overabundance of murderous cannibalistic men and menacing strangers. One man and his mentally handicapped friend must trek across this valley of death in hopes of reaching the only sanctuary on the entire continent.**

**Disclaimer: Yeah, yeah we all know that I don't own squat.**

**Prelude**

'The night was silent as it has been for over six years. The bugs were dead… almost everything was these days. Well, maybe not everything,' the old man thought glancing once at his dozing friend, the low firelight merrily dancing along his skin and dusty features. 'He looked almost tan in such a light.' The absurd thought tickled him as well it stung. 'The sun along with its glorious warmth and brilliance was gone now like so many things. In its place a great fog resides. It is as long and as vast as any man could walk.'

'The murky blanket of… whatever the hell it's made of,' Bobby Singer was not sure. 'Pollution came to mind as well as smoke from a huge fire that had never been vanquished. Hell, he didn't know; it could be the entire world's depression and hate manifesting itself in one enormous thunder cloud looming over them ready to strike down all that was its path. He didn't know nor did he give a damn anymore. The only thing that meant anything or mattered was the gentle soul sleeping silently across from him. The whole damn world could go straight to hell, just as long as Cas was safe.'

**Author's Note: I know it's short, but.. Hey! I just want to get this first prelude out and see how it is received and than I will post more.:D So… review!**


	2. Chapter One: Shoes

**Disclaimer: The last time I checked, I don't own Supernatural. **

**Author's Note: Okay people, I know some of you are reading this and I have yet to get one single review. This is one mega PLOT BUNNY and it only eats reviews. So… let's not let this fluffy thing die or run away, shall we.**

**Also, I do not have a Beta reader. Volunteers may get virtual cookies. 8)**

**Chapter One**

**Shoes**

It's the chill that wakes him. The small fire they had made together with broken twigs and dried leaves had finally gone out. He didn't think it was morning yet, but Bobby didn't know. He hadn't kept a watch in years.

Tiny whimpers distracted the old man from his thoughts. Cas was cold, soon he would wake and complain about his feet. Shoes were a luxury these days and the boy only wore a makeshift pair comprised of old milk box cartons and busted shoe strings. They both were wearing about three pairs of socks, but they all had holes and were wearing out fast. Every night both men had to remove their footwear and lay them by the fire to dry. Dry sore feet can go more miles than blood soaked stubs.

More whimpers filled the dry air. Bobby couldn't build another fire. What if someone saw it? If the butchers saw on flicker of a flame signifying life, those bastards would come in droves. Come for them, come for Cas. The ageing man knew what those barbarians would do if they got their hands on dear Cas. Those images haunt his dreams at night. They would first most likely kill him, he was old and useless to them. But Cas was young, handsome. They would take him, rape the boy, than perhaps kill him and eat him along with his own body. Such thoughts sent shivers down his spine. These were savage times.

He would not make a fire again tonight. Rowling over, Bobby crawled around the dead kindle to where his friend was sleeping. Castiel's coat, like his own, was threadbare and moth eaten as was the rest of their clothes. At least, they matched. The old man smiled at that. Sweetly kissing the young man's mated and dirty hair, Bobby gingerly unwrapped the kid from his thinning coat and blanket. Slowly to not disturb the him, the old man bunched up Cas's pant legs to examine how bad the blisters and frostbite were, but it was too difficult with the absence of the firelight. He would check his feet tomorrow. Tonight, the boy needed his sleep.

Removing his own raged oversized mittens from his calloused and frostbitten hands, Bobby guides his friends feet into his lap and cautiously drapes the mittens over them. They wont cover the heal and ankles, but he compensates by placing his palms against them, rubbing gently to warmth.

The whimpering slowly dissolves into the soft snores. Morning will arrive soon enough, along with the long road welcoming them to it's dangers for another day. But not now. No, now he will sleep; they both will sleep.


	3. Chapter Two: On the Road

**Disclaimer: The last time I checked, I don't own Supernatural. **

**Author's Note: Thanks to those who have reviewed and added to favorites. This helps in motivating me to write more. **

**Again, I don't have a beta reader, so all mistakes are my own.**

**Chapter Two**

**On the Road**

The two men woke before morning. Although the bitter cold was brutal during the early hours, the journey was less treacherous. The butcher gangs hunted late in the day and into the evening. Yet, thieves and cutthroats were unpredictable.

Bobby didn't worry about them so much. The two travelers had nothing but the rags on their back, cardboard shoes, and an overnight bag Cas carried on his back. The bundle wasn't even half full, just a pocket knife, a lighter, two pairs of socks, a razor, and a carefully wrapped bar of soap that was thinning quickly. Three days ago, they had a can of sweet corn which tragically turned out to be spoiled. Thieves only wanted shoes, ammunition and food; they had none.

A frigid wind brushed past them causing the dust and soot collecting on the road to whip up against their already dusty garments. The old man sneezed, the young man coughed.

"I dreamed of the 'Clean-man' last night." Cas chimed while drumming the air in front of his chest with his finger tips. He did this continuously, even when he was not talking. Bobby believed it was more of a habit than a nervous tick and never questioned the boy about it.

"Did yah, now," the old man commented with a ghost of a smile. "Did you two have a nice talk?" Conversation, even when it becomes monotonous, is a good distraction on the road. It helps in forgetting about aching feet and empty bellies, even if it's for a short period of time. The 'Clean-man' has been the conversation for the past two months. Cas talks as if he was walking with the two of them. Although Cas's description of his dream friend is limited, Bobby sometimes got the feeling that the boy believed this man was real, flesh and bone.

"Yeah, he-he-he says-he says he has a very im_impo_import_job."

"Important job?"

"YEAH, and-and-and, want to know some't else?" The sweet boy's words always seem to falter whenever he gets excited or anxious about something. These days, his friend couldn't complete a full sentence without fumbling over his own tongue. "He says we cant_we cant…. OH! I CANT REMEMBER!" Stopping his light trek and crumbling into the grungy asphalt, tears streaking down his dirty face, the young man began to repeat his words in a whisper, or perhaps more accurately a prayer.

"Hey, hey it's okay, it's okay." Bobby repeated patting his back in assurance. "It was just a dream. You need to stop cryin' now; we gotta go."

Wiping his nose on his dirty sleeve, Cas blinked the tears out of his eyes. "But-but-but it was_it was impor," his tongue got stuck again.

Here he was kneeling in the middle of the road trying his best to console his mentally deficient friend, who was more worried about what some guy said in a dream, than what was going on in the real world. Bobby bit his tongue. He was not blessed with a great amount of patience. He wanted to scream, to shake Cas and tell him to GET THE HELL OVER IT AND MOVE HIS ASS. The old man was just so exhausted. He didn't want to lose it with Cas.

"B, you sad?" Castiel's query jarred him from his own thought. Looking into those big blue eyes overflowing with concern, his face weather worn and streaked with muddy tears, his stubble more pronounced, Bobby could almost hear his own heart breaking. Choking back his tears the ageing man nodded to his friend. They had walked so far and had witnessed so much death and disaster and still didn't know if the rumors were true. Will there be a light at the end of this long and terrible tunnel? He could only hope. Yet, these days hope, faith is as hard to come by as food and shoes.

Cupping Cas's muddy face, Bobby cracked a pained smile, "Come on, buddy, we gotta go."

"Yeah." Using the pavement for leverage both men heaved themselves up and continued down the road.

"B?" Cas looked at his comrade walking along side him, his fingers ever painting the air.

"Hmm?" The old man wondered if he was going to get a quiet moment today, but decided it was better this way. Silence isn't always golden.

"Is there goin' to be people there_there at the-the-the light_place?"

Bobby smiled. The kid could never get the name right. "You mean lighthouse?"

"Yeah, will there be-be-be people_people like us, good-good-good guys?"

Bobby Singer didn't answer right away. He couldn't. Hell, he didn't know if the place existed or was still in operation. They hadn't seen even a clue of a rumor for months. But he couldn't give up, he had to know if the Lighthouse really did exist or if he was just chasing fairytales. "I hope so, son, I sure hope so."


End file.
